Impossible Dream
by estrella2-15
Summary: Hogan is enlisted to save the woman he loves from the Gestapo. The only problem: he's working with her fiance. Will they both survive? Or will one be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice? COMPLETE! Please review!
1. Hogan

**Disclaimer:** Perhaps if I had enough faith, I would wake up one morning to find I owned Hogan's Heroes, but as of yet nothing of the sort has happened. I don't own the original characters; I don't make money from this; any similarity between this and another story is purely coincidental, etc. etc.

**Author's note:** I _do_ claim Louisa Heiedenburg, Emil, Christoph, Georg, and any other characters I may invent during the course of this story. I would appreciate you asking me before using any of them.

I will not be explaining Hogan's operation; I am assuming if you are on this site that you know what is going on. The German in the story will be mainly implied, I may throw in a word here and there, but it is mostly up to you to decide when they're speaking in German and English.

This is my first fanfic, so I would appreciate reviews. Also, I don't have a beta reader yet, so I apologize for any typos. _And_ I apologize if I'm rather slow to update; I will try, but my life has been insanely busy lately.

So, all that said: on with the story!

**Impossible Dream**

_It is the mission of each true knight, his duty…ay, his privilege…_

_To dream, the impossible dream…_

"Colonel!"

Robert Hogan turned to find Kinch clambering out of the tunnel. He walked to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee as the radioman approached, frowning when he saw the look on his friend's face. "What is it, Kinch?"

"Message from the underground, Colonel. They're sending a courier sometime tomorrow to inform us of a crisis. It sounded urgent. They said to tell you it had something to do with Louisa Heidenburg."

"Hey guv'ner," Newkirk spoke up, "ain't that the bird what took care of you when you got winged in that Paris caper a few months back?"

Hogan's eyes were slightly glazed, and it took him a second to realize the four men around him were waiting for an answer. "Yes…yeah," he replied, regaining his composure. "That was the one."

"Oui. She cared for him when he was sick. Don't you remember? She gave me her recipe for Profiteroles."

"Good-looking bird that was," Newkirk mused contentedly. "It's really a shame she couldn't stay longer. It'd almost be worth getting shot in the arm to 'ave a pretty little thing like that to wait on you."

"Colonel," Carter asked bashfully, but Hogan was still distracted. "Colonel?" He waited until he was noticed, then continued half-hesitantly. "Were you and Louisa… I mean, did you and she ever…" He shrugged and blushed.

Hogan half-smiled at the young man's discomfiture, but before he could say anything Newkirk cut in, laying his arm across the naïve American's shoulders. "Now Carter, you know there are some things an officer and a gentleman just can't discuss."

Carter's blush deepened, but Hogan cut in. "There's nothing between Louisa and me. She's engaged to someone in the Austrian Underground, remember?"

"Mon Colonel, she has not seen him in three years. Surely it is time to move on."

"That's her decision, Lebeau. For now, she's taken. We're just friends." He looked for his cup of coffee and, realizing it was still in his hand, took it into his quarters.

Newkirk waited for the door to close before leaning in and saying in a slightly lower voice, "Just look at his face, mates. And he claims there's nothing between them? Blimey."

Hogan set the cup down and stretched his legs out on the bunk, putting his arms behind his head as he leaned his back against the wall. Louisa. Such a beautiful, wonderful woman. Just friends? Was that all there was to those few weeks? What about the way she'd sat by him for hours while he drifted in and out of consciousness? Did he imagine the look in her eyes when they'd said good-bye? Were all of the late-night conversations only talk? What about the night before she'd left?

_"Robert," When she said his name it was like her lips were on his, and yet the word was edged with biting steel. He couldn't have her. And Robert Hogan was a man not used to not having what he wanted._

_"Robert?"_

_He looked up to find her looking at him worriedly. "Yeah?"_

_"Are you all-right? That's the third time I've called you."_

_"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I'll just miss you, is all."_

_"I'll miss you too, Robert. I was so scared when you were shot – and so happy when you woke up."_

_He smiled bitterly. "And there is no other face I would rather have woken to."_

_"I wish you could stay longer, Robert, but it is better this way… for both of us."_

_He sighed heavily and walked toward the fire. "I can't help it, Louisa. It's hard on both of us. Emil has been gone for over two and a half years now. Why can't you…"_

_"Stop it, Robert! Just stop it right now! You know this is hard enough for me, with Emil gone and you here. Why must you make it harder than it already is?"_

_"Because I love you." She started to cry. He turned to comfort her, and suddenly he had crossed the room and was holding her, kissing her tears off of her cheeks. Eventually his mouth found hers. She tried to pull back, but he wouldn't let go, and it didn't take long before she pulled him closer and surrendered. _

_He pressed his mouth down desperately, wanting more, and she returned the passion. Almost unaware of his actions, he started to push her down on the sofa, but before he could she shoved violently, unexpectedly on his chest, sending him a few feet back._

_Both stood silently for a second, their breathing heavy, gaping at each other. Her bun had come loose, and her hair tumbled down, a strand falling in her face, catching the golden glow of the lamplight. Her shirt was wrinkled and damp with sweat, and one of the buttons was half-undone. Her eyes were wide and wild as she stared at him._

_Finally he straightened. "I…" He cleared his throat. "I guess that was good-bye."_

_"Yes…Goodbye."_

_"I think I'd better go ahead and leave. I know I'm not due back in camp until tomorrow, but something… something may have come up."_

_"That sounds like a good idea. Auf wiedersehn, Robert."_

_"Good-bye, Louisa." He didn't dare touch her after the last time, so he settled for an awkward wave across the room and then left by way of the back door. He made the mistake of looking back to where she stood looking after him, her figure framed in the soft firelight, a single tear slipping down her cheek. The glance between them held him captive until she finally broke it by turning away and disappearing inside. Suddenly the night air before him was the coldest he'd ever felt._

He still wished he hadn't kissed her. At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do, a parting farewell before they both resigned themselves. He had hoped for some sort of closure, but it only made the goodbyes harder. Louisa had been right; he shouldn't have pressed her.

But it had seemed so right: he had been shot rescuing her, she had nursed him back to health, and they had a week alone in the safe house together. He had thought the kiss would be perfect, untamed, sheer delight, like a fruit plucked at its ripest.

But it had been a forbidden fruit. The sweetness had a tint of peril to it, of the consequences of partaking in something illicit. The danger he had thought to be exhilarating was now dizzying to the point of nausea. He had always loved looking over the side of the cliff, but that night they had been teetering on the edge. Louisa had been the only thing to keep both of them from plummeting into the unknown depths. He didn't think he would ever get over that night, and it was all because of that kiss…

Just friends. Was that all they were ever destined to be? Would he keep on hoping, praying in vain for year after year while Louisa went on with her life? Maybe he would get a chance to set things straight after this mission. It was time to move on.


	2. Louisa

_To fight the unbeatable foe…_

Louisa looked around the dank cell, suddenly remembering all the Halloween stories of dungeons and ghouls. The ghost stories that had always thrilled her now frightened her, their eerie words taunting her, echoing in through her mind's dark walls of despair. The blackness seemed to close in around her, and a vague noise of scratching arose from behind her, then went silent again. Trying to regain her bearing, she cautiously ran her hand over the cold floor. Some places were sticky, and she couldn't stomach much speculation about their probable origins. Perhaps it was better to be in the dark, after all.

Shivering once again, Louisa tried not to cry out as she felt something slither past her hand. There were most likely rats in these cells, and probably lice and fleas and who knew what other filth. How long had she been here? Did the underground know? Would the Gestapo question leave her here for a while, or would they drag her away and beat the answers out of her?

Her head told her that this was better than questioning, but she still wished for anything but this black, inimical hole of squalor they had dumped her into. She rubbed her cheek where a soldier's ring had cut it. The dried blood was tacky to the touch, and she decided it would probably need stitches – _if_ she ever got out of here. If she didn't, Louisa expected she would have more important things to worry about.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax as she scooted carefully backwards and let her head fall back against the wall. Worrying would only wear her out; it helped no one but the enemy. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back over the events of the last few hours – or however long it had been since the raid.

_ She looked over her shoulder. Georg and Christoph were almost finished setting the explosives. She stood and waited for them as they walked toward her. In about an hour this track and the munitions train traveling on it would be history._

_ As they were leaving, however, two German soldiers came up behind them. "Halt!" The word made her cold all over, but they couldn't stop now, and so they crouched down and took off and kept running, even after the first shots were fired. She heard Christoph cry out in pain behind her and looked back to see him holding his leg. He waved at her to go on, but both she and Georg hesitated._

_ Now there were more soldiers, and they were only a few yards away. Christoph tried to stand but failed, groaning and falling heavily to his knees. He looked at the other two. "I'll cover you; I won't be able to get away anyway. Georg, take Louisa away. Emil would never forgive me if something happened to her on my watch!" She felt Georg's hand on her shoulder, turning her gently away from the area. As the soldiers got closer Christoph started to return fire, and Georg took her elbow and started to pull more urgently._

_ She still couldn't move; she turned back toward Christoph. "We'll come back for you! I promise!" In the gunfire she wasn't sure she could be heard, but it was no use now. She saw him suddenly jerk back as a bullet drove into his chest. _

_ Georg pulled harder; there was nothing to stop the soldiers now. She finally allowed herself to be led a distance from the fighting. When it seemed safe they stopped. Still in shock, she couldn't believe he was dead. They had grown up together, Emil and Christoph and she. Both were more than brothers to her; even after she had accepted Emil's proposal, Christoph had remained a kind friend. How could she lose him? She was sure she hurt as much as Emil would. How could she tell him Christoph had died defending her?_

_ Georg was new to the underground; he didn't understand her grief. "What did he mean back there? Who is this Emil?"_

_ She sighed. "He's my fiancé – and Christoph's brother."_

_ He was silent. After a minute or two he stood. "We'd better get going; we don't want Emil to lose his bride-to-be as well."_

_ He stood to help her up, but as he did a shot rang out from the woods across from her. He fell forward on top of her, and she put her hand on his back to lift him. It came away wet with blood. The last thing she saw was the red thickness dripping slowly from her fingers. Then there was a noise behind her and everything went black._

Now the image of her hand, stained red with blood, loomed before her eyes, and she opened them again, only to face the unyielding darkness of the prison cell. The picture faded, and now she saw Christoph jerking up from the bullet's impact. It was the first time she had seen anyone die. Why did it have to be him? They hadn't even had a chance to say good-bye. He had died to protect her, and now she was in the hands of the Gestapo.

"I'm sorry, Emil," she whispered. "I know you told me to take care of him, too. I'm sorry he died on my watch. Please forgive me, wherever you are." She squeezed her eyes shut, her brow creasing with the pang in her heart. And how must Emil feel, to have lost his two closest friends in one blow? She hoped he would be strong.

Emil hadn't believed her when she'd told him she wanted to join the underground. He had always thought of her as a rather delicate thing: a fragile, almost flighty sort of person. And perhaps she was. She certainly wasn't like most of the other women in her unit – bold, confident, and ready to face the world.

They were strong women inside and outside: crack shots, athletes, warriors. She preferred to spend her time sitting in front of the fireplace with a book. Her family was wealthy and aristocratic, and for a long time she had been content to stay at home and watch the world go by. The Nazis were doing horrible things, and she didn't agree with their teachings, but they were powerful and all-knowing, and she hadn't even considered fighting them. She left that to her brother Karl, to people like Emil and Christoph. Even Georg, with his gentle ways, had been more suited to the underground than Louisa.

She had always thought that the war was none of her affair. It was much safer to stay on the sidelines; the Allies couldn't possibly blame women and children for what was going on. After all, what could they have done? Louisa agreed with her grandmother; women were to leave the battles and political arguments to the men. It was none of her business.

But when Karl was killed Louisa had made it her business. Hitler had gone too far when he murdered her baby brother. She never even knew how it happened; one night a couple of strange men from the underground had showed up at her doorstep and solemnly told her that her brother had been killed by the Gestapo. They had buried him already. Apparently the Gestapo had never found out Karl had a family; in any case, they hadn't come after Louisa or her parents. Louisa wondered if he had died by accident, like Christoph.

_Like Christoph…_ He had also been her last connection to Emil; she would not have been able to speak with him when he heard the news, even if she hadn't been captured. It had been so long since she had seen her future husband, even his face was hard to recall without Christoph's similar face constantly reminding her.

She had not seen Emil in a long time, it was true, but she had been faithful. She had never once forsaken him. When he returned she would be able to say that…

Her confident illusions of their reunion were shaken as Robert's face came unbidden to her mind. What about that night in Paris? They had come so close; she could not deny that she had wanted more. They had come close to jumping off the edge that night – much too close.

Even now she had to admit that she got a certain thrill just thinking about the dashing underground leader. He had swept her off her feet with his patented smile and well-phrased complements. Of course, his rescuing her from the Gestapo hadn't hurt much either.

He and Emil were complete opposites. Robert had everything Emil didn't – wit, audacity, almost foolhardy self-confidence, an outgoing personality, and an American sense of humor coupled with a smile wider than the Atlantic Ocean. Emil also had a sense of humor, but it was so dry that only a few people knew when he was joking and when he wasn't. He was cautious almost to the point of paranoia, and he would never in the world have the audacity to simply march into the prison and demand her release.

But even though Emil lacked the suave, debonair charisma that Robert held all the way up to his rakishly-tilted cap, he had a quiet charm of his own, and as Louisa thought of his strong arm around her shoulders she knew she loved him still. He had a hold on her heart that Robert would never have, for all his winning ways and devil-may-care smirks.

She was still meditating on the nature of love when she heard harsh footsteps in the hall, bringing back in full force the sinking feeling in her chest that made her almost physically sick. Or maybe it was the stench of the cell she sat in; she couldn't really be sure. In any case, all thoughts of reunions and fidelity quickly dissipated as the two brawny guards walked toward her. "Save me now, Robert," she mouthed under her breath as she was swung up as if she was a bed sheet and carried down the hall.


	3. Emil

**Warning:** may contain some graphic violence.

_To bear with unbearable sorrow…_

Emil sat back hard in his chair, unable to take in what he was hearing. Christoph was dead. Louisa was in Gestapo custody. How could life go on?

And yet as the news sank in he found that he was still breathing, his heart was still beating, and his mind refused to obey his command to shut down. His thoughts kept marching on their weary course, even without the two companions he'd always shared them with.

His heart was numb even as his mind processed the data as it did with any other death or capture. He took a bite from his sandwich and marveled that he could eat at such a time. And yet, even though the food was suddenly tasteless, he swallowed and mechanically ate another mouthful, picking up his water glass and draining it in one long drink.

London had sent a message along with her capture that insisted her mission be completed, that said he couldn't risk rescuing her as well. Forget London. He contacted the underground. They had to rescue Louisa. They told him to make contact with a Papa Bear, who was supposed to be an old hand at getting people out of Gestapo custody.

Now he was introduced to the American colonel by a diminutive Frenchmen, who left to keep watch. The two men were left alone to silently size each other up. Emil didn't like what he saw. True, the man was said to be a daring and resourceful agent, but Emil felt his eyes narrow as they glanced over the tilted cap, the bright eyes and the handsome face of the officer.

Louisa had told him about this Colonel Hogan – she called him Robert. He had worried about the two of them in Paris, and now he decided her fears were justified. The American even _looked_ like a ladies' man, and Emil could easily imagine his flashing a winning smile Louisa's way.

However, Hogan wasn't busy wooing the girls at the moment. He returned Emil's searching gaze, all business, his legs planted firmly on the ground under his shoulders, his arms crossed in front of his chest. There was a dangerous glint in his eye that suggested he could play rough when necessary. He displayed none of the wit Louisa seemed to admire so much; his face was dead serious, and his voice was a mask of pragmatic determination.

"So what are you going to do?" Emil finally asked. "Just walk in and demand her release?"

"No; security is too tight. We'll have to try something while they're moving her to Berlin."

"When?"

"Don't know yet. We'll tell you when we do."

Emil considered. "I don't like it. She needs out _now_."

"We don't have any other choice. I don't like it any more than you do." Emil believed him. His eyes held a dim reflection of the pain in Emil's own.

Nothing much happened after that. Hogan went back to his quarters, and Emil bedded down in the tunnel. He lay silently in the damp, cool passageway, staring up at the ceiling as he thought.

His pain over Christoph was like a bullet wound – at first it was so sudden he didn't really feel anything, but then the pain came with a vengeance. All the pain he'd held back inside him strained to come out, until all he wanted to do was lay there and cry. The ache returned, an overwhelming physical pain to match his inner grief.

He couldn't lose Louisa, too. They had to get her out; every second in that Gestapo prison was a year off her life. She was delicate, like a hand-painted china teacup, precious and easily shattered. He didn't want to think about the havoc those monsters could wreak on such a beautiful, fragile, pure young woman.

At least he thought she was pure. He tried to ignore the thought. In her messages it had sounded like she was struggling. It made him uneasy. He didn't think they had, but there was no telling how close they'd come, and from the perturbation in Louisa's letters it had been close.

However, not once, he tried to console himself, had there been any hint she would leave him. He had a deeper, stronger claim than any Hogan's winning charm might grant him for a few weeks. No, Louisa had stayed faithful. He would have known by the letters if she hadn't; he could tell when she was lying. She was a virgin.

Or at least she had been forty-eight hours ago. Now, who knew? He could only hope they could get her out in time.

The radio in the next room buzzed, and he heard a commotion, but it didn't reach his section of the tunnel. He sat up tensely, wondering what was happening. Whoever had gotten the message had sounded excited, but he couldn't make out what was being said.

About five minutes later Hogan came into the room, lighting one of the lamps. Emil was waiting for him.

"They're moving Louisa to Berlin in about four days. Now we can start planning."

"Now?"

"In the morning. Get some rest now. You look like you need it."

"I'm not tired. You aren't the one who lost a brother and a fiancé in one day."

"You need to be alert when the time comes. Go to sleep."

Emil resented being ordered around and started to say so, but at the last minute thought better of it and grudgingly lay back down. It wouldn't do to antagonize Louisa's only hope of rescue. As Hogan walked away he closed his eyes and after much tossing and turning finally found his way into a restless slumber.

_He was crouching, half-hidden, in front of Hotel Metropole* in Vienna, Lugar in hand, ready to free Louisa. Soon she appeared in the doorway, flanked by two Gestapo officers. Her face was streaked with dirt and small cuts, and her clothes were torn, but there didn't seem to be any real injuries. He wondered what her hands looked like, but they were cuffed out of sight behind her back._

_ He didn't have time to think about the implications of her appearance as he began to shoot. One of the Gestapo officers fell; the other started to run toward him, pushing Louisa in front of him. Emil aimed carefully and yelled at her to pull out of the way as he jerked the trigger._

_ He didn't see how she did it, but she managed to twist around and half-fall to the ground before the bullet exploded the skull of the guard holding her. Unmindful of the blood splattered over both of them, he ran to her and took her in his arms. She faced him as he reached behind her to fumble with the cuffs. She appeared to be extremely close to him, but they weren't touching except as he unlocked the chains._

_ She smiled up at him once free, and they embraced. He pulled back a little ways without letting go. This was heaven. He didn't want to leave. Emil looked into her eyes and saw the relief, the subsiding fear, the thankfulness. He smiled and kissed her forehead, his eyes closed, and when he looked up again the scene had changed._

_ They were in a dark forest, much like one he'd seen before. All the trees were the same, the season was the same, and when he looked back at Louisa he realized that she was the same as well. Nothing had changed since that night three years ago. _

_ She was looking at him, her eyes shining with tears he knew she would try her hardest to restrain. Her stubbornness had multiplied since she'd joined the underground, Feeling the need to convince him and everyone else she was as tough as she said she was, she'd cut her hair, refused to show any emotion, and for the first time in years forsaken makeup. She looked a tomboy through every inch of her five-foot-seven frame._

_ But now as he gazed at her, he saw the beautiful woman she always had been, no longer hiding behind a rough-and-tumble front. Her eyes were dark and lovely, a strand of her hair, dark in the shadows, fell across her face, her lips were full, and her face was every bit an angel's as she looked up at him._

_ He stopped the sob deep in his chest, before it had a chance to take hold of him, but the repressed sorrow made him ache all over. He cupped her chin in his hand as he gazed down at her, and as she blinked he felt his hand grow damp with the tears. She mouthed the words "good-bye," and he could only nod in reply._

_ He leaned down to kiss her, but she turned away from him, her loving gaze suddenly turned another direction. He wouldn't, couldn't look and see who it was, and yet he had to. He slowly turned to find her locked in a passionate embrace with another man. His hurt turned to anger as the two continued to kiss, and when they finally pulled away he saw his enemy's face._

Hogan.

_ He gave a half-growl, half-moan deep in his chest, then started toward the interloper. Louisa vanished from the scene as he hurled himself into the American, who was stronger than he looked. Violently thrashing each other, the two fought on and on._

Emil awoke several hours later, less rested than he'd been before he slept.

* The Hotel Metropole was Gestapo Headquarters in Vienna from 1938-1940, when it was destroyed by bombing, if Wikipedia can be trusted. The story is set a little past 1940, but since this is a dream supposedly built on Emil's memories, I felt it would be all-right to include.


	4. Adventure

Thank you to all of you who have reviewed my stories; I'm flattered. Please keep them coming! I haven't had as much time to polish this as I have the others, but I thought I needed to go ahead and post. Hopefully I'll be able to edit it later, but for now please accept my apologies, overlook the slightly rough exterior and enjoy the story. :)

_To run where the brave dare not go…_

Thud, thud, thud, scrape, thud, thud thud, scrape, thud, thud, thud…

His hands behind his back, his brow creased, his head down, Hogan tried to figure out what he was going to do. Klink had been rather up-tight since their last escapade; it wouldn't be easy to get out of camp, much less to get back in. Still wondering what he was going to do, he glanced up distractedly as someone rapped on the door.

"What?"

"It's me, Colonel," came Carter's hesitant voice. "I've got your dinner."

"Come on in."

There was an awkward fumbling at the door, and then a thunk, a surprised cry and a burst of exasperated French from the other side. He could make out some of Newkirk's scolding.

"Andrew, you can't just let go of the tray with one hand when you open a door, especially when it's Lebeau's acid brew you're carryin'."

"Well, what did you want me to do with it? I did the best I could to balance it against the door. It's not like I could open the door with just my fingers, you know."

A half-smile twitched at Hogan's lips as he pictured the expression accompanying Newkirk's long-suffering sigh. A second later the door opened, with Newkirk bowing and sweeping his hand forward with a flourish. A sheepish Carter followed soon after, and Hogan decided not to mention the strongly-smelling wet stain across his pants.

Newkirk had no such qualms. "You smell like a bleedin' German cabbage that's been in the oven too long. You're lucky that stuff of Lebeau's didn't burn a hole straight through your trousers."

"Oh, no. I don't think its Ph is near low enough for that. See, in order to be qualified as a really hazardous acid…" Carter, helped by Hogan's half-concealed smile, suddenly realized what Newkirk had said. He turned suddenly and started to rush the grinning Cockney, remembering too late about the tray, and only Hogan's quick recovery saved his soup from ornamenting Newkirk's RAF uniform.

Newkirk's curt comment was interrupted as the coffeepot crackled. Hogan and Newkirk immediately turned and listened with rapt attention. Carter left and returned a moment later with Kinch and Lebeau. No one said a word as a familiar voice sputtered over the speaker.

"Klink, my men will be arriving at your camp within the hour."

"Yes, Major Hochstetter. Of course you know the Gestapo is always welcome at Stalag 13. Might I ask why they're coming here?"

"That's Gestapo business, Klink."

"Of course sir, that's Gestapo business, but…" The men rolled their eyes at the patronizing tone.

"Bah! Shut up and listen, Klink. They are here to pick up Colonel Hogan. They will have signed orders from General Burkhalter to bring him in for questioning concerning the bridge that was blown up last week. You will release him to them at once, Klink. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Major Hochstetter, but you realize that you cannot possibly…"

"The Gestapo can do what they want Klink. I suggest you remember that."

He hung up. Hogan's men traded sober glances at each other from around the table.

Kinch was the first to speak. "What now, Colonel?"

Hogan sighed and massaged his forehead, trying to tone down the squadron doing exercises on his skull. "Maybe we can use Hochstetter to get out of camp."

There was a round of protests, dominated by Newkirk's "You're barmy!" and a short moment of silence before he added a belated "sir."

"Listen," Hogan began, wondering why they couldn't trust him just this once. Did he have to explain everything? "I'll let Hochstetter's men take me out of camp…" He threw his arm up to ward off another round of protests. "You all and Emil will set up an ambush along the road. When we come by you grab me, and we all go to Berlin. Simple."

There was a moment of silence, and Hogan actually believed for a second that it might work before Kinch started, "except for the fact that the rescue will prove you're underground, the Gestapo all over Germany will be looking for us, Klink will have to report four missing prisoners, I won't blend in with Aryans, we won't have any transportation… Need I go on?"

Hogan let his pointed glare speak for him. Kinch meant well, but there was only so much a man could take in one day. The ambush was the only plan he could think of, and he didn't know what he would do if it wasn't possible.

Kinch seemed to read all of this from the one glance his CO sent him. In any case, his sarcastic tone softened, and he amended with, "I could stay behind and explain things to Klink. You know, make sure the records don't match with the Gestapo's and such. I couldn't go to Berlin anyway."

Hogan's anger dissipated at his radioman's words; he knew how hard it was for Kinch to stay behind while the rest of them were off on missions. He nodded. "Lebeau, Carter, Newkirk, get ready for the ambush. Be sure to take Emil with you. Carter, bring a few goodies along in case we run into trouble."

Carter's face lit up, and Hogan hurriedly went on to avoid any speeches on the virtue of. "Kinch, you stay here. We'll plan out Klink's view of the next few days." dynamite

There was hardly time to figure out the game plan, much less the details, before Schultz came in to announce that Hogan was needed in the Kommandant's office.

Hogan walked across the compound hurriedly, hunched into his bomber jacket, attempting to prepare himself for whatever was ahead. _The Gestapo haven't arrived yet; Klink must want to warn me before it happens. Not bad, for a kraut. _

He didn't bother to knock; Klink didn't seem to mind. Hogan tried to act surprised when he heard the news.

"Hogan… I am sorry. I never thought we would part this way." Klink seemed genuinely upset.

"Kommandant," Hogan began, trying to sound sincere and finding it wasn't as hard as he'd expected, "thank you for the care you've showed the men. You may be a kra – a German, but you're a different kind than Hochstetter. It's been an honor knowing you."

Klink looked like he wanted to say something back, but his reply was truncated as four Gestapo men burst through the door. Hogan found himself suddenly on his stomach, his arms wrenched behind his back, his face shoved into the floor. He was jerked up a second later. The head guard slapped a paper down on Klink's desk; the other two spun him around and dragged him onto their truck. They chained him in the back and left the camp without saying a word.

The ride was bumpy, and the awkward position of his arms didn't make it any more comfortable. Two of the guards kept their rifles trained on him constantly, and just when he thought things couldn't get tenser, the truck rolled to a stop.

For a fleeting instant he thought they were going to take him out and shoot him, until he heard Newkirk's welcome voice. The guards, however, didn't move, and for a second he thought everything was going to fall apart. Then, however, two Gestapo men, who bore a vague resemblance to Carter and Newkirk, stepped in the back of the truck to make a search. Hogan heard the cock of a gun and closed his eyes.

There was a short scuffle and then silence. He glanced up hesitantly to find Lebeau looking at him, brow creased. Hogan gave a short smile. "I'll be all right. Just got a little tricky there, is all." He was quickly unchained and jumped out onto the road to join the others, seeing that the guards had been taken care of once and for all.

As Emil walked up to join them, he turned to his friends and noticed the Lebeau was unsteady. "What's wrong?"

"It is nothing, Colonel. One of the guards hit my leg with his rifle, and it still stings. That is all."

"Would Wilson agree?"

"Wilson never agrees with anything, mon Colonel."

Hogan restrained a smile and shook his head. "You'll have to go back to camp, Lebeau. Help Kinch handle Klink. For the team and for you, I can't risk taking you along."

Shoulders drooping, Lebeau nevertheless agreed. "Oui, Colonel. Is there anything you want me to tell Kinch when I get back?"

Hogan considered, then said, "Yes. Tell him to make sure London reports us as having arrived, and make sure to make it sound as if I escaped on my own. Ask them to contact us at the hotel in Berlin with further instructions."

"Oui, mon colonel."

Hogan looked worriedly at his friend as Lebeau shifted his weight off of his left leg. "Are you sure you can make it back to camp?"

"I will be fine, sir. It is not very far."

Seeing the fierce determination in the Frenchmen's eyes, Hogan decided it would be better to leave the matter be. He nodded. "All-right, then you go ahead – and take care of that leg of yours. Everyone else, let's go." He sprang onto one side of the truck, while Carter clambered onto the other. Newkirk lay down in the back with a sniper's rifle to make sure they weren't followed. Hogan nodded to Carter, who started the engine.

They were going to get Louisa.


	5. Pain

I've been a bad girl. I haven't updated in ages, nor have I spent time making these chapters the best they could be before posting. I'm sorry. When I started this story I had no idea how hectic my life was about to get; subsequently, the last chapter's plot is pitiably weak. But this chapter seems better, so please enjoy, read and review as always.

**Warning: **contains mild violence and suggestions of graphic images. If you want to miss these, just take it from me that it's torture and skip to the part in italics. I am sorry if anyone is offended by the torture; I thought it was necessary to give the story the right mood. Please review or pm me if you disagree.

_To right the unrightable wrong…_

Louisa didn't speak as the serpent wrapped itself around her throat, choking, suffocating her, refusing to let her go. Still the major, Heike, brought out more pictures, pictures that made her turn away, rigidly silent, while he watched and laughed.

"This is what happens to those who defy the all-conquering Third Reich, Louisa. You don't want your family to end up like this, do you?"

She refused to answer, not out of stubbornness, but because she was concentrating on keeping control of her stomach. He leaned back and tsked, but looked sadistically pleased all the same. "What a pity. I see you will require stronger persuasion. Guard!" he suddenly shouted, stepping back but keeping his eyes on her face. Louisa could sense it coming before the door had opened completely, but her reflexes weren't fast enough, and before she could close her eyes she was caught and found she could no longer look away. Instead she watched with growing terror and nausea as the guards dragged Heike's 'stronger persuasion.'

It was a person.

Correction: it had been her best friend, but Louisa wouldn't have recognized the mangled body if it wasn't for the wedding ring. Nothing else was even recognizable as human. The corpse – she still couldn't imagine it as Elsa – looked like it had been eaten by a shark and spit out again.

Finally she vomited and turned away, refusing to look at Heike, who was watching her in diabolical delight. She was certain her bowels would have emptied if she had actually drunk anything in the last twenty-four hours. The smell of the decaying flesh filled the room, and Louisa felt herself hyperventilating. As she tried to concentrate on breathing, she noticed that the smell didn't seem to bother Heike. Instead he seemed to breathe it in deeply, as if it were fresh mountain air that one could thrive on.

"You see, Louisa, your stubbornness has already cost poor Elsa her life. I can assure you, she cursed you and your choices many times before she died. Don't you think it's time to give in, before anyone else gets hurt?"

_No. Never give in, _said the voice in her head, but it was getting dimmer. Her lower lip trembled, but she bit the whimper back quickly and inhaled hard, fighting desperately for control of her emotions. Her fear was his feast. She wouldn't, couldn't, give him the pleasure.

Heike was talking again. She wasn't listening. All she could do was stare at what was left of her childhood friend and be grateful that Johann, at least, had been spared that humiliation and pain.

He was growing angry with her silence, she noticed dully. Quickly checking his watch, he then walked up and took her by the neck, jerking her out of the chair until they were nose to nose. "Think about it."

He let her go, but as she gasped in a deep breath suddenly shoved her face into the bloody, mangled mesh at her feet, then pressed his foot into her back until she was drowning in her friend's blood. "I'll be back soon." He stood and left. The guards followed. The door had hardly closed when Louisa gave up trying to hold it all in. Not knowing whether to hold Elsa in her arms a last time or to crawl as far away from the rotting corpse as possible, she ended by laying her head in her red-stained hands and quietly letting out all the pain she'd been impotently trying to conceal.

Her eyes shut, she tried to remember the way things used to be, when she knew what she was fighting for and the danger was still only an exciting edge.

_She looked over her shoulder, relieved to find that no one had followed them. Only Emil was there, grinning at her. Behind him the sky turned to a bright mixture of rose and pink as the rumble of the explosion purred through the air toward them. He walked up and put his arm around her shoulder, and together they watched the flames dance above the treeline and disappear into the starry warm cherry-bronze glow came to where they were standing, like a golden moonlight that lapped up the grass near her toes, contrasting with the comfortably dim shadows around her. When looked up at him he was smiling down at her, his blue eyes dancing in the firelight._

_They stood there for a long time in silence; the scene didn't need words to clutter it. Finally, as the moon began to rise and the light had grown muted, they turned and began to walk back toward the base, each feeling as if it was the night they'd fallen in love. That had been a moonlit evening, too, with magic in the air. She leaned against his side as they walked on, enjoying the firm, protective warmth of his arm around her. Despite all that was going on around them, sometimes it was hard to believe the world was anything but perfect. She was in love, in the middle of a war. Everyone said it was unwise, but to Louisa it was beautiful._

_All at once she tripped and went flying toward the ground, pulling him down with her. They landed beside each other, and the potent silence of the evening dissolved into friendly laughter. Then she was in his arms, staring into his eyes. He lifted her to her feet, and for a while they just stood there in each others' arms and didn't say a word. His eyes mirrored the rushing excitement of her blood. It was so perfect, so very beautiful. It was _right._ For a second more they stayed standing, and then their lips joined their eyes in the communion._

_It was a long, passionate kiss, and when they drew back she looked at him with a question in her eyes, almost hoping it would go farther. She could see him struggling with an unseen foe inside himself, and then he shook his head and quickly stepped away from her._

_"No, Louisa."_

_It sounded strange after the long poignancy of the silence, and for a second she'd felt like she'd been slapped and looked at him with hurt in her eyes. He tried to come closer, but she turned away, her arms wrapped around herself. He followed her and put his hand on her shoulder. Her cheeks bloomed red. _

_"Louisa, you mean everything to me. But I don't want this to all fall apart because we tried to pick the fruit before it was ripe. I have more respect for myself and for you than to throw away our innocence just because of emotion. We have to wait. Do you understand that?"_

_"Yes." It was hardly a whisper. She was angry and hurt and extremely discomfited, and she couldn't get any more out._

_When she didn't say anything else, he turned and started to walk away. She started to call after him but thought better of it. She had nothing to say. Instead she watched his retreating back and then sat down on the ground and cried for no reason at all._

_She was so lucky to have Emil. He was as pure as she was, and he cared enough about her to say no to what they both wanted but couldn't have. He wasn't a ladies' man, but then, wasn't that a good thing? He wasn't a charmer. He was a – a committer. He had only ever loved one woman – her – and he loved her as much as anyone could. She knew he would give his life for her without a second thought without asking anything in return. Not many men would._

_Would Robert?_ suddenly broke into her memories, bringing them down around her before she could follow Emil back to the base. By now her tears had dried on her cheeks, and she simply sat there, her hair frizzing and tumbling down around her face, her eyes red and stinging, her face sticky with streaks of salt.

Why did Robert risk his life to save her? It wasn't love, she realized now. He might love her, but that had come afterwards. He had saved her without so much as knowing her name. From duty? From chivalry? Or from the appeal of saving a damsel in distress? Perhaps she would never know.

The door started to open, and she heard Heike's voice from where she sat. Quickly she smoothed her hair back, but then dropped her arms back down to her sides. What did it matter? Everything was only going to start again anyway.

She steeled herself. Emil would sacrifice himself for her. The least she could do was return the favor – though the task was looking more and more insuperable with every passing moment.


	6. Thoughts

No graphic violence this time. Yay! A lot of introspection, though, as might be expected from my oh-so-creative title. Enjoy!

_To love pure and chaste from afar…_

Emil glanced at the man beside him, wondering what thoughts lay behind his expressionless demeanor. Was the American thinking about Louisa? A flash of jealousy struck him with the thought. How far had things gone? No matter how many times he assured himself it was nothing, it ate at him constantly. Was it true? Had Louisa actually left him for this cocksure colonel? He blinked rapidly to clear the images from his head. They couldn't have – but what if they had? What if she wasn't his anymore? Had all his childhood fantasies been just that – fantasies? He should never have let her go.

He shouldn't be jealous, of course. If this was what she wanted, what made her happy, who was he to stand in the way of her best interests? But as he told himself this, Emil once again pictured Hogan's winning smile and inwardly recoiled. Perhaps she thought it was love; perhaps the American even believed it himself, but it couldn't last. Sooner or later Hogan would find someone else, somewhere else, sometime when it again felt perfect. Emil knew the type. Love wasn't a commitment; it was a feeling. And when the feeling disappeared…

"Herr Hertz? Sir? Are you alright?" Emil realized that his knuckles were white with his death-grip on the steering while. He forced himself to relax and concentrate on the road, at the same time turning and looking at the man behind him who'd spoken. It was blond-haired, friendly American, whose concern eased slightly as Emil gave him a slight nod of assurance. Once again focused on the mission ahead, he listened to the men behind him, wondering what kind of a team he'd be working with.

They didn't seem too nervous; in fact, it sounded like they were just going on a normal, everyday mission. Which, Emil considered, was what they _were _doing. _They_ hadn't lost a brother in the past week. _They_ weren't afraid of marching into Gestapo headquarters and demanding the prisoner; they did it all the time. And _they _didn't have to worry that, even after the rescue, they may have lost the love of their life, not to death but to another man. The two men in the back of the truck were composedly playing cards, without a worry in the world. He was the only anxious one in the group.

_Not the only one_, he realized as he watched Hogan out of the corner of his eye. _The only one who shows it. _Hogan hadn't joined with his men in their chatter. He was sitting quietly, somberly, beside Emil as he drove, staring at the road ahead with an inscrutable expression on his face. But the man didn't let his inner turmoil out of control. He was a good agent. He knew what he was doing. He could rescue Louisa.

And with the thought came a stab to his self-confidence that he'd never felt before. Hogan didn't need him. He could have very well rescued Louisa without Emil's help. It was Emil who could do nothing for Louisa on his own, who had to ask this man for help every step of the way. If Louisa survived, it would not be because of Emil. It would be because of this – this capable man sitting beside him, so much more capable than Emil himself, who was suddenly in the running for Louisa's love.

He had heard of Papa Bear and his exploits. The man was far from being the most influential agent in Germany, but he was well-known as the most resourceful, and tales of his rather-zany schemes reached even the farthest corners of the underground. He was daring, creative, self-confident, and a good leader. A better agent that Emil would ever be.

What if he got Louisa?

Emil suddenly found the thought, before a vague worry, become a serious possibility. He could see it all happening. Perhaps he would be wounded during the mission, unable to be helpful to the underground. Hogan, however, with his remarkable luck, would still be in the thick of things. Emil was not a good enough actor; it was the American who would get Louisa out of Gestapo headquarters, who would be the hero. Louisa had always loved the thrill of danger, of excitement, of romance. And this flyboy/superspy had it all. Suddenly it seemed inevitable that Emil would lose her.

What was he going to do?

He wrestled with it all through the long trip, as he and the two enlisted men took turns driving. Hogan never moved from his position in the passenger seat, staring into space. Emil wondered if he was planning or simply contemplating. He resented the fact, but thought it best not to say anything. The other two didn't seem to mind, after all, and Hogan _was_ the one in charge – for now.

Finally they stopped for the night, in a town a half-a-day's ride from Berlin where the underground had already arranged a hotel room. He walked out to the terrace and stood there, thinking too hard to really notice the sunset. What if they got married, and Hogan found the violet from Emil she'd kept in her Bible all these years? For some reason the thought bothered him more than it should.

He noticed the stars pricking out of the black velvet sky after a while and leaned back against the wall of the hotel, remembering.

"_Look, Louisa! I can see your name in the stars!" an awkward teenage Emil said excitedly._

_"Where?"_

_"Right there! See… there's the L, and the O…" He pointed them out rapidly, hands waving._

_"Oh, Emil. They're just stars. They don't spell anything." She sat back down, disappointed. He drooped. Could he never say the right thing?_

_Seeming to notice his discouragement, she added, "It was a nice thought, though. Bruns says…"_

_"Bruns, Bruns, Bruns," he exploded. "All I hear is Bruns. Can't you think about anyone else, just for a little while?"_

_She looked hurt, then defiant. "But Emil, he's my friend. I mention you to him, and he doesn't mind. I thought you were his friend, too."_

_He bit his lip and sighed. "He _is_ my friend, Louisa, but lately – it seems he's all you can think about. Are you – are you in love with him or something?"_

_There. He'd said it. It came out less nonchalantly that he'd meant it to, but it was alright. He would leave it to her to figure out the implications of his question. He hoped she wasn't angry._

_To his surprise, she laughed. "What in the world, Emil! In love? With Bruns?"_

_"Well," he jumped to the defensive, "you _do_ talk about him a lot."_

_Noticing for the first time the emotion in his eyes, she stopped laughing and looked at him contentedly. "You're the only one I've ever loved, Emil. I thought you knew that without me saying it."_

_As he looked into her face, he realized the stars couldn't compare with her eyes…_

"Pretty, aren't they?"

He'd been too deep in thought to notice the approach of the American sergeant. Emil looked up in surprise, then grunted his agreement. The man didn't seem to mind his taciturn manner

"I used to stargaze back in North Dakota. My mother would tell me stories about them and show me the pictures, and my dad would give me a pair of binoculars and tell me about the galaxies and supernovas." He paused for a second and sighed. "And then I got too busy, with school and the war and all, and I had to get up too early to stay out all night and watch them. I miss them, ya know?"

Emil found the man glancing at him and smiled slightly. "Yeah. I know." The words sounded almost natural on his tongue, as if they were meant to be said that way, with the hard German accent on the American phrase of empathy. They stayed silent a long time.

Finally Emil straightened and looked at the sergeant. "Why are you so calm?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, tomorrow we'll be in Gestapo Headquarters in Berlin, getting out a top-security prisoner. And yet you are all calm, as if it is just a – what is it – a walk in the yard?"

"Walk in the park."

"Yes. Why are you not nervous? What is the secret?"

The young – very young, Emil noticed now, and yet older than he seemed – Carter looked at him with an incredulous half-grin on his face. "Shucks. We're just as nervous as you. We just hide it better. I mean – well, I didn't mean it that way, but…" He trailed off, face red.

"It's fine. You're right."

They didn't say anything more after that; there wasn't much left to discuss. Carter eventually went back inside, leaving Emil alone with his thoughts. He went back inside before too long, not wanting to be ordered to bed a second time, but his thoughts remained outside, listening to the night wind and watching the stars.

**A few notes**: I know I use a lot a lot of flashbacks while writing; I may fix that later. We can assume that Emil is thinking in German, including idioms, and that he is more thoughtful that usual due to the extenuating circumstances. Newkirk _will_ do more talking later on. And incidentally, I am avoiding specifics about the trip because I want to avoid major historical error if at all possible, so if you have advice on those, or if you find something else that needs fixing, please pm me or post a review. Please read and **review**. Thanks!

Another note, since it's easier to edit this than to find time to write the next chapter: After getting this far in the story, I'm thinking it's much more angst than romance. Correct me if I'm wrong, but for now I will be changing the genre.


	7. Fears

Sorry again for the delay. Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed my stories; I certainly appreciate it! We will find out what happened back at the Stalag and what our favorite Gestapo major is up to later, but for now, I have to follow the lyrics, and they're back to Louisa. By the way, I have also edited the first chapter so that it is the underground, not London, who told Hogan about the mission. So, enjoy!

_To try, when your arms are too weary, to reach the unreachable star…_

_ She was sitting on the floor of her cell when she heard harsh voices outside. Louisa shrank back into the darkest corner of the room as she heard them coming nearer. She looked down, hearing the sharp rattle of the key in the lock._

_ She saw the booted feet walk over to her, felt someone standing over her. A harsh voice ordered her to look up, and when she refused a hand pushed it up. She glared at the man standing over her. He looked for a second, then seemed satisfied. "Bring her."_

_ She was roughly handcuffed by two of the man's guards and shoved into a truck outside. As they rumbled away from the imposing Gestapo Headquarters she sat stonily silent, refusing to look at anyone, and most especially him. Biting back the tears that threatened to come, she bit her tongue and sat rigidly in the back._

_ Soon the truck stopped, in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere, and she wondered detachedly if they were going to shoot her. Instead her handcuffs were suddenly taken off and she was standing before the man, who had taken off the Gestapo uniform and was now in civilian guard._

He looks a lot nicer that way_, she decided, then pushed the thought away. This was not a nice man, however affably he was smiling at her. Instead she crossed her arms and turned away, thinking about making a break for the woods._

_ And suddenly he said Emil's name, informing Louisa that he had begged the underground to rescue her. Apparently he had been in Paris anyway and had decided to drop in, as he put it. _

_ Her head was spinning. She didn't know what to do with the information. Could she trust this man? If he was lying, he was a horrible person to mess with the emotions that rose in her when she thought of Emil. If not – what a wonderful person, to risk his life for a complete stranger, and a German stranger at that._

_ She looked into his smirking green eyes and felt an irresistible pull. He grinned and put his arm around her as they walked together into the forest…_

Louisa felt a cold shock go over her as she fell awake, and then a wave of realization made her eyes sting holding back the disappointment. It was only a dream.

She wondered what had awakened her, but decided it had been nothing. She hadn't really been asleep in the first place; the bare bulb above her head was too bright to let her escape reality for long. She wouldn't have believed sleep in her state was even possible, with the pounding in her temples and the blinding light, but after what seemed like days exhaustion had triumphed, if only for a while.

She heard the actual key's metallic grate in the lock as the door in front of her slowly swung open. Hoping desperately that the dream had been an omen, she looked up. Heike was alone.

He smiled at her so terribly obvious frustration. "Hoping for a rescue from your friends in the underground, I see. Well, I have good news and bad news." He smiled down at her, his voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness. "Which would you like to hear first?"

She crossed her arms and leaned back, glaring at him.

"Well, then, I think you should hear the good news first. Guess what? We have word that the underground is trying to get you out. Oops… that confirms my charges of sabotage, but it's the thought that counts, hmmm, Louisa? The bad news? We're moving you out of here tomorrow, before we'd planned, to thwart any attempted escape, which not only gives my secretary more paperwork but messes up my schedule."

He squatted down and leaned in until he was uncomfortably close. "And I'm awfully cranky when I don't get my rest, Louisa. Believe me, you'll be as safe from underground hands here as you would be in Hell. And I'll make sure you pay for their concern for you."

She couldn't suppress an involuntary shudder, hating the power he had over her. A spark of rebellion stirred somewhere inside her. He could do whatever he wanted to her body, and he knew it, but he could _not_ make her believe that he had absolute power. She had her self, her soul, and he couldn't take them away from her with his sickening caresses and incessant corrosion. She refused to drop her gaze and managed to shove out a "Nice to be wanted."

Her audacity seemed to surprise him slightly; she had never stood up to him before. He drew back slightly and asked, "What did you just say to me?"

His reaction gave her enough satisfaction to come up with a smirk, which quickly disappeared when she was punched in the gut. As she gasped back the air she'd lost, he grinned at her. "It's time to abandon hope, Louisa. The place we're taking you to is the closest thing to Hell on this earth."

She found she felt like laughing, and it scared her that suddenly she wasn't scared. What were they going to do? Eventually she'd die and get away from them; even if she wasn't rescued, they couldn't keep her from escaping. Suddenly cut loose with the freedom of despair, she sneered. "At least if someone shoots you while we're there, you won't have much adjusting to do." Laughing, she looked at him. He couldn't hurt her.

In a second he had grabbed her and thrown her against the wall. A gun was pressed to her temple, and she suddenly realized that she did want to live. Her laughter faded as her fear returned, and before she knew what was happening he had her handcuffed and had jerked her onto the floor, his knees pressing into her chest.

"You think I can't do what I want with you, you dog? You think I can't have you whenever I want?" His anger faded as he saw the terrified horror return to her face full force, and his tone became quietly menacing as he teased the collar of her tattered, filthy shirt. His triumphant laughter echoed darkly off the walls. "You will pay for that comment, my precious. Not yet, but soon. Soon." He left her handcuffed as he walked out of the cell.

She lay there silently for a long time, her face a blank mask periodically wracked with paroxysms as she attempted to deal with the convoluted emotions sweeping over her. She could still feel the satisfaction of standing up to him, even for a moment, but was it really worth it? Maybe, if she could find the strength to reopen her wounds, she could bleed to death now and not worry about 'soon.'

Louisa rejected the idea completely the first time, but as she remembered his mocking, triumphant laughter the possibility seemed more sensible, and after a long session of soul-searching she slowly tottered to her feet and determined to try it.

She pulled at the handcuffs weakly, realizing that as much as she'd thought it out, she hadn't really intended to do it, or known how to go about it. But as she weakly collapsed back onto the floor she felt his hands touching her, stroking her cheek, playing with her hair, on her shoulders as he held her down, and she felt so helpless lying there that she forced herself to stand and try reopening her wounds in earnest. There had to be a way.

The dull thudding of her body against the wall seemed soft and gentle compared to the crash and clatter she wanted to signal the impact. And yet even in the wild desperation, she couldn't make herself hit any harder, for fear she would succeed, and she finally sank back down in disgust. She wasn't strong enough to kill herself; she couldn't give up. Louisa had always considered hope a blessing, but it was starting to look like more of a curse.

How much would it take before she finally yielded to despair and gave up all thought of rescue? And what would Heike do to her before then?


	8. Search

I had to fit a lot into this chapter, so it's somewhat longer, but never fear, it's mostly dialogue. Oh, and as I said before, I'm not the best with plot, so if you notice any glaring errors, please point them out, and I'll do my best to fix them.

_This is my quest: to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far…_

"…roll call every two hours, doubled the guards, and put Lebeau in the cooler. We can't even leave the barracks without a guard to watch us, and tomorrow they're bringing in a radio detection truck."

Hogan's brow creased with worry. "Sounds like Klink is bringing in the big guns."

"No sir. I don't think Klink had anything to do with this. He's just as scared as we are, from what I gather."

The air seemed to turn dark around him as his face hardened. "Hochstetter."

There was a long, loaded pause at the other end, and then, "Yes sir. Hochstetter."

Hogan sighed. "All right. Just stay the course for now; we should be back before morning roll call day after tomorrow."

"But sir…" He could hear the worry in his friend's voice; things must be worse than he'd thought.

"I'll see if I can contact you later tonight, but we're expecting the underground to radio any minute. You'll just have to hold your own until then, all right?"

Silence.

"Understood, sergeant?"

A deep sigh. "Yes sir. There's one more thing, though."

"What?"

"Hochstetter is on the verge of convincing his superiors you're Papa Bear… and Himmler's ordered every Gestapo unit in the country to be on the lookout for you."

A slight groan escaped him. _Great. Just great. Now what?_

After a few seconds he remembered the phone. "Thanks, Kinch. I'll…" he licked his suddenly-dry lips. "I'll contact you later."

"Yes sir." He prepared to hang up. "And Colonel?"

"Yeah?"

"Ya'll be careful out there."

He nodded, forgetting his friend couldn't see him, and then hung up.

Everyone was looking at him silently. He sighed and repeated what Kinch had just said. "Newkirk, I think you and Carter should go back to the Stalag. Kinch has been claiming you're ill with the help of a few of our surreptitious guests, but he and Schultz can't cover for you much longer with the extra security the Gestapo's brought in. Klink won't be happy with you, but it's safer than Hochstetter catching you. I'm sure you and Kinch can figure out a story good enough to satisfy them."

"Gee, Colonel, I thought we were going to rescue Louisa. I mean, she's a nice girl and all, and we want to do whatever we can…"

"But you need us for the mission, Colonel," Newkirk cut him off.

"Look, I'm sorry guys, but it'll probably be safer as a two man job anyway, and Kinch has enough to deal with without worrying about you two missing another roll call."

"Colonel," Emil broke in, "there's another call coming in from the underground."

He brushed his still-protesting men away and took the phone. "When can we get her out?"

"It's going to be more difficult than we'd thought."

"And why is that?"

"We can't find her; she's disappeared."

"What!" Hogan quickly cleared his throat and continued more calmly. "Why can't you find her?"

"It seems they've transferred her earlier than expected. We are searching, but locating her may prove impossible."

Hogan found himself wanting to punch the owner of the detached voice at the other end of the line. "When will you be sure?"

"We can't search much longer; the Gestapo are on high alert, thanks to you. If we haven't found her within an hour, we will end the search."

He hung up the phone, barely noticing when his men came up behind him. He looked up bleakly.

"They can't find her; she's been transferred already." No one said what everyone was thinking. Everything was falling apart.

Emil cleared his throat awkwardly from behind them, and everyone turned around questioningly. "I – I have a friend who might be able to help us. He doesn't have the most solid of loyalties, but he knows everything that goes on in the Gestapo."

"Why? Is 'e in the Gestapo?" Newkirk asked suspiciously.

Emil said nothing. Hogan's eyes narrowed. "Absolutely not. We can't let a backstabbing Gestapo informant know about our operation. What are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to help you. You can't really believe you can do this alone."

"I don't need _your _help to save Louisa!"

"Oh, that's it. It's a pride thing. You just want all the credit for yourself. Well, you're not getting it."

"So you admit you want it."

"She's _my_ fiancé, in case you've forgotten that. And don't think for one minute that because you save her I'll forget what you…"

"Guys!" Carter broke in. "This isn't helping, and you're shouting out into the street."

"'E's right, guv'ner," Newkirk cut in. "We 'ave the Gestapo on our backs, we've lost Louisa, and we can't 'ave you two tearing each other apart. This isn't 'elping matters. Maybe Carter and I 'ad better go and leave you civilians behind."

"I'm not a civilian, Newkirk. I'm an officer."

"Gee, I always figured they were about the same…"

Carter might not have lasted the day if a Gestapo siren hadn't cut off Hogan's reply. All conversation stopped immediately as they rushed to the window to see black-uniformed troops circle around the building.

Hogan felt a chill go down his spine. This wasn't Hochstetter's game. He knew how to handle Hochstetter. This was bigger, much bigger. These soldiers weren't looking for Colonel Hogan, a POW and suspected underground agent, who until he was proved guilty was reluctantly assumed innocent. They were looking for Papa Bear – and they'd just found him. Things hadn't gone this wrong since Morrison had almost gotten him shot in Berlin. But this wasn't Morrison. This was Emil and his men. He couldn't lose control here. And so he didn't.

Instead he looked around and tried to find an exit that wasn't yet blocked off. Nothing presented itself. He looked around, "Any suggestions?" and bit his tongue when it came out sounding more like a desperate plea than anything else.

"The kitchen! In the back!" Emil suddenly said. No one had any idea what he was talking about, but they all followed him anyway. When they got there he quickly knocked out the chef and found aprons, gloves and hats for all of them. Lebeau took his place at the stove while the rest of them scattered into various positions of cookery.

An SS sergeant soon stormed through the door, followed by several soldiers. It was easy to stay back out of their way; they shoved everyone and everything out of their way as they moved. They were almost running once they hit the hotel dining room, and as soon as they were out of sight Newkirk and Carter grabbed a crate and began to pretend to load the refrigerator truck while the rest of the refugees tried not to look.

A second later there was a thud, and both came running back in to say the coast was clear. In a second they were all out the door, trying to look casual and walk fast at the same time. A car was across the street; if they could just get to it in time… There was a shout behind them, and the group spread out and started running without looking back. _So much for that idea…_

He ran as hard as he could down the open street, stripping off his gloves and apron. He caught a glimpse of the woods outside the town and sped up, hoping against hope something would happen once he was there. This time there was no tunnel to dive into.

He reached the forest and immediately curved out of sight; when he thought no one could see him he leaped into a tree, arms burning as he pulled himself up. The effort was worth it when he heard the clump of the Gestapo pass by where he was hiding. It had worked – for now. He pushed worry for his men aside; they could take care of themselves. He just needed to get out of here; after all, they were looking specifically for _him_. Using one hand to steady himself, he jumped lightly to the ground, glad that, at least, was over.

_Too impatient, as usual. _The wit seemed to kick in instinctively as he found himself staring at the wrong end of a Lugar, held by an SS colonel.

"So, Papa Bear, you seemed to have eluded my men, but now we see which of us is more clever, hmmm?" He smiled.

Hogan opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of the gun cocking stopped him.

"No, no, I want none of your wit, Hogan. Right now I only want to revel in my victory, and your humiliation. Later we will play your little game," he smiled and leaned closer, "but we will play it on _my_ terms. And guess what else?"

Hogan never found out what else, and decided he didn't want to know as Emil checked the man's pulse and shook his head. "I'm sorry if you wanted him alive."

He shrugged and shook his head. "He wouldn't have told me what else anyway. I'm sure it was incredibly melodramatic."

Emil half-smiled before jerking back as the bushes on one side of the clearing rustled. Both men relaxed, however, as Newkirk and Carter cautiously emerged.

"No one hurt?" Hogan asked.

They shook their heads.

"Good. Now what? We can't go back to the hotel, and our contact is supposed to call within the hour."

"I know a place," Emil said, and once again they all followed him, at a slightly slower pace. The underground couple was almost paranoid and most unhappy to have them, but they were allowed to stay for the remaining twenty minutes before their call came in.

Hogan turned to his two men. "Now I really have to send you back. I won't endanger you any longer." They started to protest, and he held up his hand. "No buts. I want you two to go back to camp, slip in through the tunnels if possible, and…" He was cut off by the sound of the radio coming on. Emil was listening intently, working the radio, but they all heard the message. No news.

"Well," Hogan sighed, "we'd better get going. No need to endanger our hosts unnecessarily.

"Let's wait a little while longer," Emil said. "They said until the hour is up, and it's not gone yet. Besides, we could use the rest."

Hogan looked at him, knowing he was up to something but not knowing what. Could this be a trap? Every instinct was flashing out a warning, but he nodded grudgingly. "Fine. Five more minutes, but then we go."

"Agreed."

Could he trust this man? Louisa did, but she'd known him since they were four. She was biased in his favor. What was his game, anyway?

Just then the radio crackled to life again. Emil started speaking quickly in a code he'd never heard before, then excitedly hung up.

"Who was that?" Hogan asked.

"That was the contact I told you about. He says they are still in the process of moving Louisa; she will be passing near here in about two hours. We'll barely have enough time to get there."

"He knows when and where? He told you?"

"Well, approximately, yes."

Hogan's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure he can be trusted?"

"Probably, yes."

He sighed. "But they are sure it's Louisa."

"Well, no…"

"No?"

"I didn't tell him everything, just that we were looking for an underground agent whose transfer time had been moved up because of a suspected rescue attempt."

Hogan looked at him.

"Look, I know it's not much, but it's all we've got. It just has to be Louisa. And we haven't got much time. Let's go!"

There was a pause before Hogan nodded. "All-right. We'll go. You two – " he motioned to his men, "stay here." Over their protests he turned to Emil. "Do you think you can convince that couple to let them stay?"

Emil smiled. "Trust me."

Wondering if he should do just that, Hogan looked around once more before nodding. "Let's move out."


	9. Reasons

Since I waited such a long time, before posting the last chapter, I thought I would go ahead and post this now. Please read and review. Only three more chapters to go!

_To fight for the right without question or pause…_

Emil finished preparing and pulled the 'borrowed' Gestapo overcoat over his black pants and sweater. They would move out in approximately fifteen minutes. He checked his side arm a last time and tucked it under his belt, then made his way into the room where Hogan and the others waited.

Newkirk and Carter were resignedly helping their colonel make sure nothing was left in the safe house that could be traced to them. Emil watched them in silence. Finally Hogan straightened up and looked him in the eye. Emil nodded. _Let's go._

They had agreed to operate as if they were sure it was Louisa on the convoy. Newkirk and Carter would wait at the safe house until two hours were up, then go to a prearranged meeting place a safe distance from the scene of the action, bringing with them an underground contact to take Louisa. Neither of the enlisted men was very happy about staying behind, but both had in the end agreed. They would also contact Stalag thirteen if things did not go as planned. Sooner or later they would have to deal with the Gestapo force hunting them, but for now everyone was focused on the mission. As Newkirk pointed out, if it didn't work, they wouldn't have to worry about the rest.

He watched as Hogan said goodbye to his men, eyebrows raised. He hadn't realized they were that close. It would work against them in case of capture. But then, he shouldn't talk; he'd had his own run-ins with the Gestapo. Brushing the thought away, he coughed and looked at Hogan expectantly. The colonel finished giving his men instructions and walked over to Emil. The two locked eyes for a second before heading out the door.

Neither said anything as they walked down the street. Hogan silently motioned across the street, and they both watched as a Gestapo major left his car and walked into a nearby Hofbrau. The moment he disappeared they began walking.

"Let me do the talking," Emil murmured as they came up. "Private!"

The young man started and quickly came to attention. "Yes, Herr captain?"

"The colonel" he motioned to Hogan, who maintained a cold silence, "and I are commandeering this car. You will step away from it at once."

"But Herr Captain!"

Emil pushed him away and slid into the driver's seat as the soldier, still protesting, quickly opened the door and came to attention when Hogan stepped in. They took off before he had time to protest further, driving in silence save for Hogan's occasional directions. Neither man thought they were traveling fast enough, but they arrived at the rendezvous point a good ten minutes in advance. They stopped the car, leaving their overcoats in the backseat, and slipped through the woods all in black. Still not knowing exactly what they were going to do, Emil leaned back against a tree and faced Hogan, who was looking at him questioningly. "So what do we do now? You _do_ have a plan?"

"Not much of one, but it's all we'll get. One of us is going to have to distract them, lead them off course. The other one will rescue Louisa."

"It's not much of a plan. We could use your other two men." He paused. "Why did you send them away? They are soldiers; they are paid to risk their lives."

Hogan paused, and for a while Emil thought he wouldn't answer, but then he spoke. "They're not just my men. They're my friends. We're isolated from London; a lot of the time all we have is each other. You get close to people."

"But you've sent them into danger before. How is this different?"

The American was obviously annoyed at the questions, but he answered anyway. "For one thing, the Gestapo's closing in. They're after me. I can't risk my men getting captured."

"That's all?" Emil didn't believe it. "The unit I work with always has the Gestapo 'closing in.' You think today was the first time I barely escaped with my life? I risk my capture and the capture of those I work with every day. You cannot run a unit if you are busy pampering your men. They are soldiers. We are civilians, and we risk capture every time we walk out the door, every time we so much as speak to an Ally. We have no Geneva Convention; we have no protecting power. If that is all that keeps you from bringing backup, you are a coward."

He could see Hogan's anger. Oh, he was good at hiding it, but he could see it lurking behind that tightly controlled surface. The man was ready to explode. Emil wondered whether or not he should be nervous.

"Is that what you think I am? A coward? What do you think I'm doing here? I don't have to prove myself to you."

"No, you don't, but I want to know. I don't think you are a coward, colonel, from what I've seen of you. So what is it that keeps you from bringing your men into this?" He waited. Hogan said nothing, but the emotions flickering briefly across his face spoke for him. "It's because of Louisa, isn't it? You don't want to get them involved in your… personal problems, is that it?" Hogan flinched slightly. "I thought so. That's understandable."

Still he said nothing, and Emil decided he probably shouldn't have pried, but he doubted he would get another chance. He didn't expect Hogan to say anything, so he was slightly surprised when the American asked a question of his own.

"Why didn't you let the underground handle this? Why come all the way from your work in Austria just to rescue Louisa?"

"I did not mind coming. I miss Germany." He smiled slightly at his companion's surprise. "It is my home, colonel. Did you expect me to hate it?"

Hogan shrugged it off. "That still doesn't explain why you came, and without any of your men as backup."

Emil's face hardened. "She's my fiancé, Colonel Hogan. What should I do? Sit back and wait? As for backup, for the same reason as you. It wasn't their fight."

Hogan nodded. "Then we understand each other. They should be here soon; we'd better get in position."

"Yes. Colonel," he said, as Hogan started to move.

"Yes?"

"_I_ will take care of getting Louisa out."

Hogan looked at him a second. An indecipherable expression crossed his face before he nodded. "Agreed."

They split up. Emil scrambled into a tree by the side of the road. By the time he'd settled in he heard a military convoy approaching.

_Louisa._


	10. Rescue

Happy thanksgiving, everyone, by the way. No warnings for this chapter except that it waxes melodramatic toward the end, as does the final chapter. Please R&R, and enjoy!

_To be willing to march into Hell for a Heavenly cause…_

Louisa wondered how much longer it would be, but she didn't dare ask. Instead she shifted slightly against the hard wall of the truck and tried to ignore the aching in her back.

Heike turned around from the passenger seat to smile sickeningly at her. "Not enjoying the ride, my dear?"

She refused to answer.

He tsked, but said nothing, and she stared out the back of the truck. The scenery was pretty. _The rifles pointed at me don't help the view terribly much._ Still, she drank in the sky and the smell of the forest. Who knew if she'd ever see it again?

Her whole body was sore and bruised from being chained and bounced around so long, and she had a headache from the constant stress of trying not to think about the future. The convoy slowed to a stop, and once again she held her breath, trying not to admit the shock of fear that went through her every time she thought they might have arrived.

She heard a man in front, asking for papers. For a second she thought she could imagine Robert's voice, but of course that was impossible. He was probably still at Stalag 13, carrying out business as usual. She turned back to the inside of the truck to find Heike's face not three inches from hers. Louisa gasped in surprise.

He motioned the guards to leave, then took one of her cuffed hands and rubbed it down his cheek. "You see, Louisa, they are trying a rescue, but it will never work, because we are ready for them. They think you are in the lead truck, and that is where they will focus their efforts, but you are actually back here. We are waiting for them; when they try to get you out we will round them up like the pigs they are, and catch a suspected double agent as well. In the meantime, we have time to waste."

She strained as far away from him as she could, but that was less than a foot with the chains around her ankles and his hand on her arm. His arm started to encircle her waist, and she slammed back hard against the wall, causing him to wince. His expression of pain turned into a sneer as he drew back. "Would you like to see what is happening to your friends, Louisa?" He called two guards, who marched her out of the truck and to the side of the road. She watched with growing dread.

She hadn't been mistaken. Even with his disguise and gruff German accent, she could tell it was Robert stopping the convoy. He was speaking to the Captain and appeared to be confident. Everything was going according to plan. She wondered whether or not he knew about the ambush, but she doubted it. Heike had been pleased with himself; he had probably changed plans once the convoy was already moving.

She thought about warning him, about calling out, but he was too close. While he was going down the line of trucks asking for papers the soldiers were casually walking around. It didn't look like he noticed he was being surrounded. _Robert!_ she thought desperately, silently screaming at him while she tried not to stare too hard, g_et out of here!_ But he didn't notice.

Heike was watching her. "You know him, Louisa?"

"No," she started to say, then thought better of speaking and simply shook her head. What good was it? They both knew Robert was underground. Maybe he would figure it out and get away before it was too late. Maybe he would change his mind and decide she wasn't worth it. Maybe… but she knew he wouldn't, and even while she wanted him to get as far away as possible, Louisa couldn't bear to have him leave her alone again. Maybe it was selfish, but she couldn't help it. She was scared.

She was still fighting with herself when she saw another shadow slipping up to the lead truck. A pang went through her when she saw the man. He was going to walk right into the laps of the soldiers waiting inside. He may have prepared to fight three or four, but there were at least eight waiting inside. He glanced around; no one had seen him yet. And then he turned toward her, and she let out a short gasp as her face went white.

It was Emil.

_No. No!_ She didn't realize she'd screamed it until after he looked up. She wanted him to disappear, but he didn't. He headed straight for her. Any further encouragement was cut off as Heike looked at Emil and then pulled her to him and cut off any more of her screams by kissing her full on the mouth. She could imagine Emil's face hardening as he sprinted straight toward her. Nothing would keep him away now. Louisa watched as the soldiers leaped out of the truck behind him. Emil must have heard them behind him, because he pulled out his Lugar and started shooting for all he was worth.

The whole convoy erupted into gunfire and shouting as the soldiers immediately focused all their attention on Emil, who was running straight for Heike now, murder burning in his eyes. Heike pushed her away and turned to smirk at the agent as Louisa fell back onto the ground.

One of the soldiers tried to block Emil, and without stopping the agent punched the young German. The man's head snapped back hard, and Louisa could hear the crack as his neck broke. A week ago she would have been horrified, but now she hardly cared. He was almost there… just a few more yards to go…

Suddenly a shot, indistinguishable from the din, rang out behind him, and everything went into slow motion. Emil wasn't hit hard, but he was thrown off balance, and he was going too fast to regain it. She watched, unable to help, as he twisted, arms thrashing, ankle twisted, foot kicking at the air, and fell, unable to get up again before the black-uniformed soldiers were swarming all over him. Even Heike left her side to gloat over his victory. She lay there, unable to pull herself up.

She heard a sound behind her and whipped her head around sharply to see Robert motioning her to hush. She closed her eyes, wondering how she should feel, but she was too confused to know. She heard a quiet scrape and then her handcuffs fell off with a small clatter. She watched him as he worked. "I thought you left."

A muscle jerked in his cheek, but his face remained emotionless. "I wouldn't leave you."

"You disappeared. I thought –"

"Later." Without looking up he motioned to where the Gestapo guards were still focusing on Emil. The chains on her ankles finally came loose, and he quickly pulled her away from the clearing. She looked back to where Emil was being hauled up by two guards. He was fighting as hard as he could, but it was obvious he couldn't get away.

_Christoph tried to stand but failed, groaning and falling heavily to his knees. He looked at the other two. "I'll cover you; I won't be able to get away anyway. Georg, take Louisa away. Emil would never forgive me if something happened to her on my watch!" She felt Georg's hand on her shoulder, turning her gently away from the area. As the soldiers got closer Christoph started to return fire, and Georg took her elbow and started to pull more urgently._

_ She still couldn't move; she turned back toward Christoph. "We'll come back for you! I promise!" In the gunfire she wasn't sure she could be heard, but it was no use now. She saw him suddenly jerk back as a bullet drove into his chest. _

The image was still vivid in her mind. What would she do without either of them to laugh with and talk to and tease? Last time she had promised to come back – and she hadn't. This time she knew she couldn't help. From what she'd seen only Robert and Emil had come after her, and there was no way to rescue Emil with only herself and one man. All three of them knew there was no way they could promise to come back – but she wanted to anyway.

As Robert attempted to get her away from the area unnoticed, she turned back toward Emil. The soldiers had discovered her missing, and now about half of them had fanned out looking for her. Emil was left chained to a tree, several of the guards still clustered around him. He was looking straight at her, a slight smile on his face.

Her vision was blurred, and she blinked back the tears determinedly as she tried to say goodbye. There was so much she wanted to say. _I've never been unfaithful. I won't run off with Robert as soon as you're gone. I've never really cared for anyone but you. I can't believe you'll be gone. Do you know how much I'll miss you?_ A million things rushed through her head, but she didn't have time for any of them, and so she decided on three words that came as close as possible to saying it all. "I love you."

He must have read either her lips or her eyes, because he nodded slightly. And then, as a shout came from the soldiers, he mouthed "good-bye" and moved his hand slightly. She swallowed and turned away, looking over her shoulder as Robert pulled her away. She looked as long as she could, then finally turned and followed him away.


	11. Goodbyes

_And I know if I'll only be true to this glorious quest _

_that my heart will lie will lie peaceful and calm when I'm laid to my rest…  
_

Hogan pulled her away as fast as he could. He was sorry about Emil, but surely the man understood that the two of them would be joining him if they didn't hurry up. All of this was for nothing if Louisa didn't get out in time, and his adrenalin wasn't being sympathetic to their heartfelt but highly impractical farewell.

He almost picked her up and carried her; she wasn't going nearly fast enough, and she couldn't go any faster if she didn't stop looking over her shoulder. He could tell she was angry with him, but one of them had to pay attention. He tried to ignore the jealousy that was making him sore all over as she longingly stared back the way they'd come.

It wasn't that he didn't like Emil; if they'd met under any other circumstances they would probably have been – well, not friends, but comrades. They would have understood each other. But as it was, one couldn't possibly look at the other without thinking about Louisa. And now…

He stopped short as they almost ran into another patrol, barely keeping Louisa from knocking them both over. She glared at him, but he only motioned her to be quiet. When it was clear they continued on as quickly as possible.

Had she ever felt anything for him at all? He wasn't sure anymore. He'd seen the look in her eyes when she called out. She wasn't worried about him. She wanted Emil out. _But he was in the more precarious position, _he reminded himself. _I could have gotten out. I _did_ get out. She didn't need to warn me._

The soldiers were coming closer. He looked around for the cave Emil had mentioned, but Louisa found it first. She apparently knew this place better than he did. They both tumbled in as the patrols came so close Hogan could have touched their boots from where he lay, barely breathing. When it seemed like they were alone again the situation became awkward, and both scooted to opposite ends of the small cave. Even sitting down he had to duck his head to keep from hitting it, the ceiling was so low.

They sat there a second, their breath sounding harsh in the sudden quiet. Finally Louisa broke the silence. "What are you going to do about Emil?"

He didn't look at her. "Nothing."

"What? You're just going to leave him, after everything he's done for you?"

"Done for me? He's gotten me pegged as Papa Bear by the Gestapo. He's put my men in danger. He's exposed a double agent in the Gestapo. He's gotten himself killed. He hadn't done one thing for me!"

She was quiet a long time. Then, "Why did you disappear?"

"I was getting you out. Emil would have done the same thing if that major hadn't kissed you. It was… imprudent to dash across a clearing filled with soldiers trying to attack their commanding officer. It wouldn't have worked."

Her eyes flashed. "You wanted to say 'stupid,' didn't you?"

He said nothing.

"Emil would risk his life for me. He just saved my life. Don't you ever, ever speak about him that way again! To think you would… you would suggest that I leave him for you. You didn't risk a thing out there."

"Discretion is the better part of valor," Hogan offered drily.

From the look in Louis's eyes, she was about to tell him what he could do with his discretion, but before she could open her mouth he heard another familiar sound – the patrol being relieved by a Gestapo unit. He stole a look out of the cave to see them several yards to his right, about to go over the area again. This might be their only chance.

He pulled Louisa out of the dip as quickly as he could, and they slipped quietly away from the others. Hogan glanced over his shoulder the whole time, breath held, sure that they would be caught, but for the first time something went right, and they made it away without being seen. He could hear the Gestapo begin to search the area; soon their tracks would be discovered. They had to get to Newkirk and Carter, and fast.

They went as quickly as they dared and soon caught sight of the clearing where the two men were waiting with the underground contact. Just before they reached the three both stopped and looked at each other, something keeping them from rejoining the others just yet. Hogan saw the anger flash in Louisa's eyes, but this time he saw something else as well: pain.

And suddenly he remembered she wasn't as brave and defiant as she had been acting all this time. She'd just been captured by the Gestapo and had her two best friends killed. She wasn't a warrior anymore. She was a woman who'd seen more in the last week than anyone should see in a lifetime. He felt all his anger and jealousy melt away as a single tear trickled down her cheek and fell silently to the ground.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, pulling her to him, holding her against his chest as he would hold a child. She began to sob softly, and he held her for what seemed like hours as he felt the dampness of her tears spread over his shirt and didn't care one bit. Rubbing her back, he tried to come up with something comforting to say, but he could think of nothing, so instead he simply stood there with her, holding her protectively until she finally quieted.

She finally started to breathe normally again, and he gently drew her away from him. Cupping her chin in his hands, he said nothing as she gazed at him, her eyelashes laced with teardrops. Finally he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, feeling no urge to do anything more, and then backed away, still looking into her eyes.

And for that second the world was perfect. There were still many unanswered questions – what was going on at the stalag, what would happen to Emil, what Hochstetter would do if Papa Bear returned to his operation – but for a while all the clamoring, anxious voices in his head were silent. It was only the two of them. And in that moment, everything was right.

"Goodbye, Louisa."

"Goodbye, Robert."

She walked into the clearing toward the underground agent, and for once she didn't look back.

A few explanations:

1. As there is only one chapter to go, all these questions obviously won't be answered. They aren't my emphasis for my story – but they probably will be for my next one, which also means I'll probably have less OC and more canon in the next one. We'll see what happens; I've got a few ideas, but I'm not sure myself yet, and am certainly open to suggestions!

2. I would just like to clarify that there was no way to rescue Emil. Hogan and Louisa didn't just decide to give him up for lost because they wanted more time to say goodbye. The area is virtually swarming with troops, and with the Gestapo around there was no way Hogan could risk going in after Emil with only himself and his men. His priority was getting Louisa out. Also, the last few paragraphs took place in a relatively short period of time, before the Gestapo finished searching the area, and they will have transportation away. This is all the closure there will be for Hogan and Louisa until my next story; the last chapter is Emil's, and I'm not planning on writing an epilogue.

3. Please read and review! I appreciate it!


	12. Courage

_And the world will be better for this: _

_That one man, scorned and covered with scars_

_Still strove with his last ounce of courage_

_To reach the unreachable star!_

Emil tried not to watch her as Hogan pulled her back, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her beautiful, tear-stained face. It had to be this way, he knew, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. He watched worriedly as the Gestapo guards arrived and began searching the area. Would they have time to get away, or would all this be for nothing?

He had been chaied to a tree fairly roughly and, satisfied as to his security, the guards began to join the search. Emil thought frantically. The guards were going in the right direction, and Hogan and Louisa probably didn't know how close the soldiers were. If he didn't do something, fast, they'd all be dead – or worse.

Luckily, the guards had forgotten to frisk him in the confusion. Without his gun he couldn't do much, but he shifted the knife out of his sleeve anyway and began to cut as he tried to figure out what to do next. None of the guards were paying much attention to him; they wanted Hogan, and they wanted him bad. Emil could simply slip out of the clearing and meet his friends in the underground – or he could get caught and give Louisa and Hogan enough chance to get away. He liked to think he could do both, but there wasn't enough time, and as the rope started to loosen he tried to decide.

By the time the rope was cut he'd made his decision. As soon as he was free he slipped to the edge of the clearing and, turning to make sure no one saw him, made his way to the side of the clearing opposite the one they were searching. A few seconds more he hesitated, then sent the knife in his hand flying toward the nearest guard, who clutched his chest and fell.

Instantly the whole contingent was after him. Emil dashed wildly into the woods, hoping he could buy enough time for Louisa to get away. He zigzagged through the trees, attempting to keep in sight but out of range. It was harder than he thought. After what seemed like forever he managed to get out of sight long enough to rest. No one seemed to be coming after him, and he leaned against a tree and gasped for air, relieved.

Then he heard the Gestapo major order his soldiers back toward the rendezvous point. Emil checked his watch; the chase had taken only a few minutes. He had to get more time. He quickly ran toward the authoritative voice; it wasn't very far off.

He arrived in time to see the last of the soldiers run out of the clearing. The major turned and caught sight of him, but before he could pull his gun Emil had launched himself the last few yards and thrown the officer to the ground. The agent gave a half-growl, half-moan deep in his chest and grappled for the gun, which was quickly tossed out of range.

Violently thrashing, the two fought on, rolling across the clearing, Emil reached for the man's throat and pinned him down, squeezing, strangling, sucking out the life. He was half-sickened by the rush of power it gave him, but the slight disgust wasn't near strong enough to stop him. Still he pressed, forgetting about buying time, forgetting about everything but the need to kill the man who'd once held power over Louisa.

He didn't realize he was surrounded until it was too late. Quickly he dragged the Gestapo man, who was now almost limp with loss of air, up in front of him as a shield. The motion gave the hostage what he needed, and Emil found himself defenseless in the middle of the clearing, glaring into the major's blazing eyes. As the guns around him raised and cocked, now sure of their target, he slowly raised his hands.

The officer was furious; he wasn't wasting time. Emil, his head once again clear, found himself remembering as the soldiers lined up in front of him.

_"Look, Emil, it's a bird. Why doesn't it fly?"_

_ He looked at her sadly. "It's dead, Louisa."_

_ "But it has to fly! It can't die!" Her cheeks turned the peculiar shade of fuchsia they had when she didn't get her way._

_ "There's nothing we can do, Louisa."_

_ Germany was changing – for better or for worse, few could tell. It was five in the morning when he got a call._

_ "Emil?"_

_ "Louisa? What is it; I told you never to call me here."_

_ "I had to. Emil – Karl's dead."_

_ He couldn't believe it. Karl had been his brother as much as Louisa's. "H…how?"_

_ "Gestapo."_

_ His face hardened. "And they couldn't save him?"_

_ "No. By the time they got there, there was nothing they could do."_

_ They had been on a mission together, with another man… shots… running… pain… a cry behind him… _

_ "Emil…?"_

_ He shook his head slowly as he stood after checking the pulse. "He's dead, Louisa. He's been shot through the heart."_

_ "But surely we can…"_

_ "No, Louisa." His voice was harsher than he meant it to be. Niklas had been a good friend. Softer, he finished. "There's nothing we can do."_

_ "Emil?" The voice was pitying, making him straighten. Bad news. It was always bad news._

_ "What is it? Is it my brother?"_

_ "Yes. Emil – he's been killed."_

_ "Wh...?" nothing more would come out; he couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't think._

_ "And your fiancé has been taken by the Gestapo."_

_ His power of speech returned. "What!"_

_ "There's no hope of rescue, Emil. She's being taken to Gestapo headquarters in Berlin. There's nothing we can do."_

_ For the first time, he couldn't accept it. And so he called the man rumored to do the impossible, who had broken suspects out of custody many times before, who wasn't afraid of a challenge. Colonel Robert E. Hogan – Papa Bear._

"Ready!" The rifles were raised. The major was looking at him, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

_Well, Louisa, we've done it. You're free. Stay safe. Don't wait for me forever. It hurts, but I'll let you go. Make me proud. I love you. I wish you could hear me._

"Aim!" The major was still glaring at him. He still didn't care.

A face flitted past his mind. _Colonel Robert E. Hogan…_ A brave man; a foolhardy man; a ladies' man – but a good man all the same. _Take care of her for me. Thanks for helping me with this one. You remind me of someone else... someone I'll be seeing very soon._

Finally he raised his eyes and looked at the major, who'd been waiting on him. _Courage… is when you know you'll lose but you fight as hard as you can anyway. And maybe you don't win much, but sometimes…_ He left the thought unfinished as the final command was given.

"Fire!"

And the guns went off.

I can't believe I actually finished this. I'm proud of myself.

Notes: REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED *hint hint* :)

This is the last chapter, unless I think of a bunch more things I have to say. Stay tuned for the sequel!

My apologies for any spelling/grammatical errors: I have proofread this, but I only reviewed it once, as I was in a hurry to post it.

Emil's last thought is a paraphrase of my absolute favorite line in To Kill a Mockingbird – "I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do." Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird, Chapter 11. But of course, the book wasn't written until 1960, so I had to paraphrase, though I don't say it nearly as well as either the book or the song.

Thanks especially to Marie1964, ColHogan, Sierra Sutherwinds, and Nitestalker for their reviews and to everyone who read my story!


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